


Loving you has made me better

by wendigo_alderson



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Babe is a dork, Barista!Liebgott, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mentions of Mental Illness, Modern AU, Webster is walking angst, schizophrenic!Eugene, trans!Webster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6278395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendigo_alderson/pseuds/wendigo_alderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Kenyon Webster, exiled from his family seeks refuge in the city of Brooklyn New York. He's short on money and short on hope. But when he meets a kind barista during a snow storm, a series of events will pull him into a whole new world as he tries to rebuild the shambles of his life.</p><p>Meanwhile, Eugene Roe, a schizophrenic shut-in is visited constantly by the optimistic customer Babe, who brings him different teas everyday and keeps him company as he carves. <br/>In the city that never sleeps, can love really cure?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a long time coming so uhhh yeah I hope this works out

                           And now, you’re shattered, hurtled outward: shrapnel of stars and a weird music: bone in the wind’s throat Lights sweep across the

ceiling as the subway moves along the tracks, the structure shuddering slightly from the pressure. Webster eased back slightly, trying to get 

comfortable in the transport seat. His back was sore from his travels and he was growing increasingly grumpy from the humid temperature in the 

subway car and the vibrating of the vehicle as well as the crowds of people. He turned and glanced outside, into the dark night, the stars barely visible 

against the shimmering city lights, that pierced through the darkness, giving the place a beautiful yet toxic appearance. Web could appreciate it, as he’d

learned some of the most precious things in life are in fact tainted. The brunet shook off his thoughts, instead moving to adjust the ace bandages 

around his chest, that felt as if they were squeezing the air out of his very lungs. He gritted his teeth in irritation, but he knew that the pain was worth

it and that he’d have to suffer until he could finally get enough money for top surgery. Luckily for him, his baggy sweatshirt covered up everything the 

ace bandages couldn’t, and he was grateful for that. The man was once more rattled from his thoughts as the wheels pressed down on the tracks, 

emitting an annoying squeaking sound, signalling that the car was coming to a stop. 

“Brooklyn, New York!” The driver yelled as Webster rose to his

feet, swaying slightly, throwing his bag over his shoulder and making his way to the front. He nodded his thanks to the driver, a burly man with a Red 

Sox cap perched upon his balding head. As Webster stepped outside, a blast of cold air hit him, chilling him to the bone instantly. The brunette buried

deeper into his sweatshirt, ignoring the stinging sensation of snowflakes against his cheeks. He trudged forward through the wet snow and onto the 

sidewalk, which, unfortunately was not safe from the overwhelming amounts of white precipitation. There was no way in hell Webster could walk to his 

hotel in this weather, and he let out a deep sigh, his breath clouding in the frigid weather. Void of any other ideas, Webster decided he might as well 

look for an open business to warm up in before heading along. As he continued to walk on though, all he saw was empty dark buildings, and shops

whose doors held big angry letters that spelled out “Closed”. The man, wearing only a hoodie and jeans, cursed himself for his stupid clothing choices.

Being from Florida, he knew nothing of snow, or cold weather, and certainly did not own any heavy, warm clothing. Webster was legitimately certain 

he’d sooner die of frostbite then discover his hotel or a single building with a god damn light on. He was ready to lie down in the snow and accept his 

cold, sad death when he noticed a light in the distance. “Is it heaven?” He muttered to himself sarcastically, but despite his salty attitude, his pace 

quickened and soon enough he was standing outside of the store front. He stared up at the store sign, “zu heilen und zu gedeihen”. From the sign he 

could tell it was a German bakery, he’d taken the language for a few years during highschool and college. Pinned under the sign, in English, was a piece 

of laminated paper with the wifi symbol under it. Webster didn’t give it a second thought, pulling the door open and slipping inside. The warm 

atmosphere was a fantastic feeling, the heat embracing his frigid body. 

“Can I help you… sir?” Webster practically jumped at the echoing voice. He whirled around to see a man, holding a towel that he was presumably wiping

down the counter with, staring curiously at him. The man was tall, with dark hair that fell gently against his forehead, complementing his warm brown

eyes. Webster cleared his throat and looked up at him. 

“I uh - I just moved here and, uh, I have to walk to my hotel and I just wanted to warm up...the name’s Webster by the way,” David said, glancing away and back while he spoke. 

“Huh, well, welcome to town, I’m Liebgott. You look mighty cold in that hoodie. Can I get you a hot beverage or something? I can whip you up some tea

or coffee…?” Liebgott offered, trailing off, his eyes looking far too gentle for his intimidating features. He was all sharp jawlines and frail stature. 

“I don’t have that much money on me-” Webster began, hoping that he wouldn’t be kicked out for not being able to buy anything.   
“Drinks are on me, friend! Consider it my welcoming gift,” Liebgott cut in, mirth in his words and a chesire cat grin painted across his face. David ’s eyes

widened and he opened his mouth to say something but then shut it again, not wanting to risk the possibility of a free drink, In the end, it wouldn’t 

have mattered, as Liebgott had already disappeared from the counter and was now busy in the back preparing a drink. 

“Tea or coffee?” The man called back. Webster pondered his words for a second. 

“Uh, this may be a dumb question, but is your tea gluten free?” He asked. Liebgott raised an eyebrow at him but nodded. 

“Uh yeah, it is.” The barista replied and Web could practically hear the humor in his voice. 

“Alright, awesome! I’ll take some tea, please.” Webster responded. After a moment, Liebgott appeared again with his drink, sliding it across the counter

to him. Webster nodded gratefully and took the warm drink in his hands. “So, you’re one of those gluten free gurus or somethin’?” Liebgott asked with a smirk. Webster shook his head, lowering the drink. 

“Celiac disease.” He replied quietly. Liebgott’s eyes widened, which would have been comedic under different circumstances. 

“Oh shit, sorry.” The man mumbled, clearly horrified at the idea of offending him. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it! It hasn’t been a huge problem until recently…” Webster trailed off. Liebgott looked shocked once more, and Webster

realized his mistake. “Ah, I don’t have colon cancer or anything, it’s just migraines and seizures, you know, fun stuff.” Webster said with a snort. 

Liebgott smiled back, but Webster could sense the relief in his posture. The brunet set down his cup on the counter, and smiled at Liebgott. “Thanks for

the drink, I should probably get on my way now.” David explained, glancing warily at the storm raging outside the window. The hectic whirlwind of 

snowflakes was still going strong, and it wasn’t very appealing. 

“Wait,” Liebgott called as Webster made his way to the door. “There aren’t any hotels for another ten blocks, I know that for a fact. You’re gonna freeze

to death in just a hoodie. Unfortunately, I don’t have an extra coat to give you, but you can take my scarf,” Liebgott offered. Webster raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

“That’s really kind of you, but I can’t take your scarf!” David replied with wide eyes, wondering why the hell this guy was being so nice to him. 

“Please, you’ll be doing me a favor. I’ll never forgive myself knowing that I let a newcomer walk home in this storm without giving him any assistance,” the bright eyed man explained to him.

“You did give me a drin-” 

“Just take the damn scarf,” Liebgott deadpanned, making Webster snort in amusement. 

“Fine,” David relented, but his tone was amused. Liebgott held out what was probably the most ugly scarf he had ever laid his eyes upon. Orange and 

plaid, made out of a thick and fuzzy material. Webster took the item carefully, wrapping it around his neck, while Liebgott practically beamed. “Thank 

you again,” Webster murmured, smiling up at the man. “You’re very much welcome,” The brown haired man said with a smile, waving him farewell. 

Webster tugged on the door, resenting his return to the cold night air. He hated to admit it, but the scarf was very warm and comforting, and he didn’t 

want to bring it back. Although he’d never tell a soul, Webster relished in how the scarf smelled like lavender and aftershave.


	2. Do not go gentle into that good night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webster tries to find a job and the search for Liebgott begins.

_ Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. _

 

 Webster  finally arrived at his hotel, a brightly lit, towering building, that gave off an eery vibe. It was the least expensive hotel he could find for miles, though it 

seemed like it wasn’t the sketchiest once in the area. The floorboards creaked and the elevator smelled faintly of moldy carpet, but his room itself was . . . decent. 

Webster  dropped his bags off by the entrance (the larger amount of his luggage held books) and was immediately drawn to the window, that barely showed off any of 

the city, and was centered around an alleyway. However, distantly, he could make out skyscrapers with glowing lights in the slight fog.The misty environment felt very fitting for this city, although he couldn’t quite place why.

Webster  unraveled Liebgott’s scarf from around his neck and folded it neatly on the dresser, glancing at it as he sat down on the bed. The hotel room seemed to lack 

heating a little, but Webster  wasn’t willing to risk choking himself to death on his first night in New York. He lay back onto the bed, and only groaned a little when the uncomfortably hard mattress creaked beneath him. 

Web really didn’t know how long he could afford to stay here, financially and physically, if the goosebumps on his arms were any indication.  However, the twenty-year-

old still thought it was better than back home. But then again, anything was better than home. The brunet grimaced slightly at the thought, but then he cursed himself 

for realizing he had forgotten. Dammit, he had promised her that he would write her on the first night. Not at all reluctant to leave the uncomfortable bed, he stood up , 

and wandered over to the pen and paper on the hotel desk. He didn’t bring any of his own, so he’d have to use what the hotel offered. David  slid the chair back, sliding

down into it, the wood creaking slightly. He posed the pen on the paper but his mind instantly went blank. 

_ Dear Kya,  _

 

He paused and stared down at his scratchy writing. What was he supposed to say? He’d left his niece alone in this dreaded world, with his brother and his brother’s wife. 

Webster  let out a sigh dropping the pen onto the marred wood of the desk, running a hand through his choppy hair before letting his fingers fall back down. The brunet 

picked up the pen once more, deciding, fuck it. 

 

_ Dear Kya, _

_ I just arrived in Brooklyn. It’s extremely cold here and there is a winter storm currently raging on. I was stupid to only wear my hoodie and jeans into town. Lucky for me _

_ I found a German bakery that was still open and stopped inside, my intention only being to warm up. But hell, I definitely got more than that.  The guy working at the  _

_ counter was skinny and tall, with dark brown hair and these really bright eyes. He was surprisingly kind, despite his mafia look (he had crazy eyes).  His name is Liebgott, _

_ and he offered me a free drink even though he just met me. He seems like a wonderful man, he was extremely kind to me, he even gave me his scarf _

Webster  was cut off by a sudden pounding in his head. He let out a slight groan, bringing a hand to his temple, applying pressure, although it did little to dull the 

throbbing. David  decided it’d probably best to ditch the letter for the night and attempt to get some sleep. He’d need his energy for tomorrow. The brown haired man 

stood up, reaching under his shirt and unraveling the ace bandages, letting out a content sigh when they slipped off, alleviating the pain in his chest, but not in his skull.

He set the wrap aside, before sliding down onto his bed. What was he gonna do tomorrow? He was unemployed and knew no one in town. Webster  banished the 

thoughts from his head, not wanting to worsen his headache. He lay his head back against the pillow and for the next couple hours fell into a fitful sleep.

  
  


 

 

    Webster  woke to the blaring of his alarm, which he didn’t remember setting, and reached over to slam his hand on the snooze button. Unfortunately, he missed and 

 his hand hit a different target. A small vase holding a single wilted daisy shattered beneath his palm glass spraying everywhere. Webster  let out a shriek, instantly wide

awake. His other hand moved to grab at his wrist, clutching his shaking and bloody arm, as he inspected the glass lodged in it. The material stuck out grotesquely from

his skin, crimson trickling down from where it punctured. With shivering fingers, he began to pluck the glass out, biting his lip so hard it almost bled.

 

After finding extra ace bandages in his luggage, he had successfully wrapped his hand, although the white cloth was stained a light shade of maroon. Webster  yawned, 

stretching his arms above his head, cracking them, before letting them drop back down to his sides. He let out a yelp,pain surging through his arm as it hit the mattress,

having forgotten about the cuts rather quick. He glanced over to the dresser, his eyes landing on the scarf and then he remembered. Shit. Liebgott never told him where

to return it to! Webster  groaned, before sliding out of the bed, his back sore from the practically solid mattress.

 

  Since the hotel wasn’t exactly the most exciting place anyway, when Webster  woke up, he decided that he didn’t have time to procrastinate. There was only really one 

way to spend his morning, right? He’d have to apply for a job. He wanted to do something related to the arts, but Webster  knew that he couldn’t be picky right now, he 

just needed to be paid. The twenty-year-old was technically homeless, after all, and he couldn’t afford a hotel forever. This hotel was a little less than a hundred bucks a 

night, and he barely had enough money on him to pay for a week of it, nonetheless pay for food and drink and other necessary items.

 

He needed a job - but first, he needed wifi. And, thinking back to yesterday, he knew somewhere that had it. He could kill two birds with one stone, right? Get a drink, 

give Liebgott back his scarf, and look at available job listings. All within an hour. Maybe the cafe had an opening, if Webster  couldn’t get anything artistic.

 

 

            The walk to the cafe was quiet at best, and though yesterday Webster  had been complaining about the commute, this morning he was surprisingly energetic 

about it. He needed exercise just like any other human being, and New York was the best place to do that. He observed the people around him, trudging in the snow that 

had been beaten down to brown slush. They all had their own lives, with their own problems and triumphs. Sometimes, he forgot that. It’s easier to label them as a 

walking body, a shell of a faceless person, and never think twice about them.

 

The cafe was open, unsurprisingly at what was nearing noontime. He couldn’t see Liebgott right away, so he decided to slink into an empty seat in the back and pull out 

his laptop. His parents had bought  it for him before he had came out, and since they couldn’t take it away like they did his phone plan, Webster  was able to keep the 

relic.  Typing in the search bar served slightly difficult with his bandaged hand but he managed to type: “job openings Brooklyn, NY,” Indeed.com popped up as the first 

result and he clicked on it, the page switching to a list of blue lettered job openings. He scrolled down, his eyes flickering over each of them individually, each as 

unpromising as the next. PR Communications Intern, Care Coordinator, Sales Representative, the list went on and on. But as he continued to scroll his eyes caught on 

one in particular. Full Time Overnight Shift Stockers and Supervisors, it read in large bold letters.  The brunet hesitated for a moment before clicking it. As he continued 

to read he saw shifts started at 4am to 9am and he smiled to himself, before scrolling back up and clicking the orange apply button. To others it would seem crazy to 

apply to a job with such strange hours, but for David  who suffered from insomnia it was more than opportune. He continued to fill out the job info before finally finishing 

and shutting his laptop cover. As he sat up, he noticed Liebgott was still nowhere to be seen. Webster  frowned slightly, before sliding his laptop into his messenger bag 

and standing up, heading towards the counter where a dark-haired man was slouching against the gray marble. He stood up quickly as Webster  approached, trying to 

look like he hadn’t been just standing there. Webster  smiled gently at him, reading his name tag that read “Luz”. 

“Hey, um, do you know if Liebgott is working today?” Webster  asked, blowing a tuft of dark hair out of his face.He shook his head, frowning slightly.

“Nah, he’s not working right now. Is there anything I can do to help you?” Luz asked.

“Oh, um, no thank you. Thank you anyways,” he replied, trying and failing to mask his disappointment. 

“No problem,” he answered automatically, already preoccupied with watering a little cactus next to him. 

  
Webster  slipped outside the door, leaning back against the brick wall of the building letting out a light sigh. His fingers twitched and subtly yearned for a cigarette to 

perch between them. He relaxed his fingers, pushing off from the wall and began the walk back to his hotel. He needed a fucking nap.

Webster  entered his hotel room and immediately flopped down on the bed, face first. He wasn’t sure why he felt so discouraged by this, but he did. But as he was lying there, hating himself, he remembered something. 

“Shit,” he mumbled into his pillow. There were two things that were going to have to happen soon, since a month had passed.

 

  * Trans period time (yay)


  * He needed another testosterone injection



 

Webster  groaned, rolling out of the uncomfortable hotel bed, and dragged himself over to his bag. He dug through it until he found the small glass bottle and the

syringes. Webster  cringed, a shiver going down has spine as he lifted the objects up. Webster  was deathly afraid of needles and hating having to do this, but it was 

worth it. He stripped down to his boxers, prying the syringe from its protective casing and stabbing it into the bottle, sucking up the fluid. Once the syringe was finally 

filled up, he brought it closer to his face so he could inspect it, making sure he had collected enough of it. Once he was absolutely sure, (He was often afraid of not getting

enough and something drastic would happen) Webster  lowered the needle towards his thigh, scrunching up his boxers to reveal his skin that showed signs of repeating

this procedure many times before. Webster  squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the needle into his thigh, biting his lip in an attempt to forget about the needle 

puncturing him. He let out a soft hiss, pressing down on the plunger, forcing the liquid out into his leg. The sensation was strange and seemed to take an eternity. After

what felt like hours, Webster  opened his eyes, pulling the needle from his leg and quickly tossing it into the trash. He groped around in his messenger bag for a small

bandaid to cover the puncture hole with. Thankfully, his hands met a tiny bandaid with a small circular cover and he deftly unwrapped it, sticking it onto his thigh, before

pulling back up his jeans and setting the bottle aside. David  flopped back down onto the bed, his fear tiring him though he had just woken up a couple of hours ago. He

quickly thought better of it and the brunet reached down into his luggage, fishing out his laptop and setting it on the bedside table. He opened up iTunes, scrolling

through his music until he found a fitting song. He double clicked on the song of his choice until the beginning notes of Car Radio by Twenty One Pilots rang out. For the

first time that day, he smiled a real smile, before retreating to his bed and laying his head back down, not even bothering to change out of his jeans or put a fresh covering on his hand.


	3. So it goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In summary, Webster didn't deserve this

When Webster woke, he was instantly reminded by a searing pain shooting through his chest how stupid it was to sleep in his binder. He let out a strangled sound, trying

to pull it off as fast as possible, the material digging into his ribs like cruel, prying fingers. Finally, the bandages came loose and he let out a loud gasp, sitting up in

attempt to force more air into his aching lungs. The dim throbbing in his hand was a secondary reminder of his stupidity and Webster quickly hopped out of bed, despite

the intense searing in his chest that was still present. He unwrapped the bandages carefully, setting the rusty colored, blood stained cloth aside, and extracting yet

another ace bandage roll from his bag. David made quick work of patching up his hand and securing the white material, holding the end between his teeth before tying it

off. He sucked in a breath as the fabric rubbed against the still tender sore but it barely even compared to the ever-present aching in his chest. David knew it’d be insane

to even try and wear a binder today and settled for a dark gray hoodie with floral sleeves, that was baggy enough to keep him content. Webster slipped on a pair of jeans

and swung his messenger bag over his shoulder, slipping his laptop and charger into the side pocket as he headed for the door, slipping outside into the hallway. Webster

welcomed the cold morning air against his sweaty face, almost tempted to take off the orange plaid scarf he had wrapped around his neck tenderly. His converse

squeaked lightly against the sidewalk, it seemed that it'd rained last night. He searched through his messenger bag for a pair of headphones, cursing himself for not

getting them out before he left the hotel. When the brunet finally untangled them, he then slipped his phone from his back pocket, deftly plugging in the headphones and

placing the buds in his ears. Hitting the play button so his music would shuffle, the first song that blasted through his ears was Little Game by Benny. A song about

gender roles fit his situation quite well, if one thought about it.

 

   When he got to the cafe, the first thing he noticed was the overpowering scent of something that smelled like apples. David sighed contentedly and moved towards a

table nearby him so he could set his messenger bag down. Webster assumed he was going to have to buy something so he wouldn’t just be leeching off of the cafe’s wifi,

and whatever he smelled, smelled absolutely fucking delicious so the man assumed that would not be a bad place to start. When he turned around from his table, he was

face to face with someone familiar.

“Oh, hello again,” he said to Luz, lips quirking up at how he had gone over to him once he noticed him.

“Hi,” he said. “You should buy something. I already abandoned my job to say hi to you, and since that’s obviously your fault, you should buy food. Not like I’m missing anything, because there’s nobody here. I’m gonna shut up now.”

“Um,” Webster said intelligently. “Okay, that was part of the plan anyways. Do you recommend anything?”

“The bratapfel is in this time of year,” Luz said casually as they walked back to the register.

“The what?”

“Bratapfel. It’s basically baked apples. It’s really good though, and it’s not that much money, so hey. Anything to drink?”

“I’ll have that, then. Could I have some herbal tea, please?” Webster requested, and he hesitated on asking if it could be gluten-free, recalling the reaction he’d received

from Liebgott some nights ago. Before he could make up his mind anyways, Luz cut him off.

“Alright. Gluten free?” Luz replied, surprising David into silence. He gave him the simple dessert on a plate and turned over to make his drink, leaving him gaping at him back.

“How’d you know?” Webster questioned. “About the gluten free thing.”

“Liebgott was babbling all about the cute guy at the cafe the other day, and considering you’re wearing the scarf that Liebgott would never take off in his entire life, I’m assuming that’s you.” Webster spluttered.

“What do you mean, never take off in his life? This is his favorite - oh my God, you should take it, and give it back to him when you can.” Luz laughed, placing his tea

next to the dessert.

“Hell no! You’ll give it back to him, so he can get your number.” Luz rang him up. “That will be 4.20, please.” Webster handed him a fiver and took the delicacies.

“Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to go use all of your wifi.” When he turned to go back to his table, he heard a quiet “bitch” but his tone was humorous and Webster

muffled a giggle slightly. The apples smelled delicious from where he was balancing them beside his coffee. He set the items down on the table, attempting not to spill

anything as he swung around to sit in his chair. He had to check his email to see if he had gotten any news from the job he had applied for. Booting up his laptop and

taking a sip of tea, Webster quickly typed in gmail.com into his search bar, the domain quickly popping up. 17 New Emails greeted him in his inbox, most of them were

notifications and spam. As Webster sifted through the mostly junk mail, until his eyes caught on one specific email. The address was from the company he’d requested to

work for the other day. With his fingers shaking slightly,Webster clicked open the file.

_Dear Webster , we’re grateful that you would wish to work for us but we’re afraid_

_that we have enough staff currently to run the business._

_Although I know you are probably busy applying for other jobs, just know that we are having a board meeting soon and will be issuing job cuts._

_Therefore there will be open slots available for hiring, so stay in touch and we’ll try to contact you in the near future._

_Sincerely,_

_Charlie Dandrum,_

Webster sighed, letting his head fall slightly, before lifting it slightly to take a sip of his tea.

“Stay in touch.” He grumbled sourly underneath his breath. Webster decided to call it a day after finishing up all the apple delicacies, his tea long gone, and began

packing up his laptop. On his way to return his plate though, Luz caught him by the arm.

“Hey, Liebgott’s working tonight at 7, if you wanted to stop by.” he said, smiling at him. David ’s face lit up more than he’d like to admit.

“That’d be great thank you!” Webster replied happily, bidding him farewell as he retreated out the door, lapsing into the chill of the morning air that felt euphoric to his

lungs.

 

    The walk home was pleasant, although the sheen of the rain was still a dull annoyance to his retinas. The gentle ring of some Muse song transmitted through his

earbuds and he found himself humming along to the tune softly. Webster made the turn into his hotel that served the purpose of an apartment currently, gliding up the

carpeted steps until he found his floor. The door creaked unpleasantly as he opened it but he ignored this, setting his bag down on the floor, adjacent to his bedside table.

For a moment Webster just stood in the middle of his room, unsure what to do. He was an unemployed man in the big city, trying to save up enough money to transition

or get a decent binder. His eyes caught however on the unfinished letter on the table that he’d been meaning to send to Kya. But as he approached the table he realized

the letter wasn’t there. Only the blank sheets of paper. Slightly confused by the disappearance of his letter, Webster sat down and began formulating a new one.

_Hey Ky-Ky, It's me Webster . This first week has been stressful, getting used to the city and the climate._

_Oh god the weather, there's snow everywhere like in that picture we have in the stairwell that you always loved._

_I hope you can visit here sometimes, you'd love it. I met a guy at a coffee shop. He's very nice, his name is Liebgott._

_I still have to return his scarf that he let me borrow but to be honest I've kind of grown a liking for the atrocious thing._

_It's orange plaid, and is just as ugly as it sounds. I may be getting a soft spot for ugly scarves._

_I miss you Kya, see you around,_

_Webster_

The letter was shorter than he’d hoped but the brunet figured it’d have to do, as he set the pen down, stretching his arms above his head, cracking his knuckles, and then

stretching them behind him, cracking his shoulders and back. His weird joints cracking and popping had always grossed Kya out but he had found it funny, disgusting her.

A soft smile plastered his face thinking of the young girl, who’d taught him more about himself than anyone else. Webster glanced down at his watch, checking the time

. 4:00, he had plenty of time to kill. The man figured he might as well do some of the FTM workouts that Sage had suggested to him. The red haired girl had probably

been one of the greatest friends he’d ever had, with her funny jokes, bright clothing and her constant flirting with every girl Webster introduced her to. David rolled his

eyes at the memories, reaching into his bag and pulling out his laptop. He flipped it open, starting up Google Chrome with a single click, his bookmarks popping up. His

eyes flitted across the page before him until he saw a bright icon that read FTM WORKOUTS :D the page had obviously been bookmarked by Sage, the emote giving her

away. He clicked on it, the link bringing him to page named “FTM Fitness Part 3” Webster scrolled through the pages of large blocky font. The arm/triceps workouts all

required barbells and weights, things he didn’t have. Webster pulled out his 20 pound weights that he’d conveniently packed. He didn’t like to think about what he’d been

training for the last time he used them. Webster winced, trying to shake off the memory, instead picking up the weights.

 

        An hour or so later a very sweaty, smelly Webster , who’d forgotten to apply deodorant before his exercises, hopped into the shower. For most people showers were

nice and relaxing, the water trailing over your body, calming your senses but for Webster they were quite the opposite. Having to look at his body that wasn’t right, that

belonged to a female. Webster tried to scrub his hair with eyes completely shut but he was forced to open them to grope around for his soap. His hands ran over his

body, this body that wasn’t meant for him, this body he was trapped in. His nails dug into his skin and David didn’t come to his senses until realized how deep he was

clawing at his skin. David ’s eyes snapped open, he’d been rendered unaware of the red mixing with the shower water. The brunet gave up on cleaning himself, shutting

off the shower, and stepping out, wrapping himself in a faded gray towel. The fabric stung against his open flesh, and he dried off hurriedly, ditching the towel and

rushing to his bag, pulling on a pair of boxers and dark jeans he searched through his bag for his box of bandaids. His fingers brushed against the slick cardboard, and he

grasped the item, quickly opening it and pulling 2 out, unwrapping them, discarding the protective slips. He stemmed the bleeding with his towel, drying the cuts before

quickly applying the bandaids. Webster sighed, sitting down on his bed and grabbing his ace bandages from the floor. He sucked in his chest, pressing his free hand

against his breasts, pushing them flush against his chest, wrapping the material around them, once, twice, thrice, and securing it suffocatingly tightly behind his back. As

he let go of it, he traced his fingers gently along the ink on his back, feeling the slightly different skin. Webster decided to wear a black t-shirt that day, revealing the

tattoos that littered his arms. He slipped his fingers across his personal favorite, a tattoo of the moon cycle across his wrist. He’d remembered giving himself that one, it

was right before everything went bad. His finger trailed up to the next tattoo, three black bands, circling right above his elbow. Perched upon the bottom line were 5

birds, inked in black, except the center one was a bright blue instead. It’d been Kya’s idea to get that one. She wanted him to remember the blue bird they had always

looked for around town. His hometown was filled with crows and ravens, the dark birds littering every field and power line, but Kya had fallen in love with this one specific

bird, whose feathers were a bright blue color. The next tattoo was an intricate compass, a feather dangling off one end, an arrow pointing north on the other. The rest

were small pieces, such as crescent moons, anchors, and keys. The knuckles on his other hand were tattooed as well, although his arms on that side were completely

bare. The 4 tattoos on his fingers were as follows, a simple feather, a palm tree to remember his hometown in Florida, a K for Ky and a snowflake, for the new city. He’d

given himself each of the symbols at different times, the last one had been a quite recent addition, when he finally decided where he was moving. Webster realized he’d

become lost in thought, and quickly slipped on the black shirt, standing up and shoving his feet into his shoes, not even bothering with socks. He checked his watch once

again and was surprised to see it was almost 6:40. Shit, he was gonna be late, he had to go! Webster grabbed the scarf, slinging it around his neck,and slipping on a dark

gray jacket as he hurried out the door. The cool air blasted against his face, a shock to his senses that sent a shiver down his spine. He began the walk to the cafe,

concentrating on his steps rather than the impending chill of the weather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's 7 pages for yall. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
